(11) Who is the most delicate of the queens?

STORY ELEVEN

The king again went to the Shimshapaa tree and placed the Vetaala on his shoulder and started walking towards the tree where the mendicant was waiting. Vetaala said to him- “Hey King! I will tell you a strange story that will relax you, listen!”

Once a king named DharmaDhvaja ruled the city of Ujjayini. He had three beautiful princesses as his wives and loved them dearly. Their names were InduLekhaa, Taaraavalee and Mrgaankavati. The king, who had conquered all his enemies, lived with his three queens happily.

It was the time of spring festival. He went to the garden to sport with his wives.

The garden was very beautiful.

It appeared like the strung bow of Manmatha the god of love, with the row of bees acting like the bow-string, and the creepers bending with the weight of the flowers acting like the bow.

The cuckoo birds perched on the top of the trees sang melodiously as if it was the voice of Manmatha which ordered the king to make love with abandon.

The King like Indra sported with his queens there and consumed wine which could fill life even in Manmatha.

Indu Lekhaa was seated next to him. The king playfully pulled her hair. Then the lotus flower she had placed on her hair slipped and fell on her lap. She was wounded by that flower and started to scream in pain-“Ha!Ha!” and fainted.

The king was worried and got some water through the maids to sprinkle on her and woke her up. He took her back to the capital; got her checked by the doctors and treated her with various medicines.

After she was cared for, the king ascended the moon-terrace with his other queen Taaraavalee. As the king was tired, they both slept on a comfortable bed in that room. The queen was lying on the lap of the king. From the window the cool rays of the moon fell on her body. Immediately she jumped out of the bed screaming-

“Ha! I am burnt!”

The king woke up anxiously and asked-“What is it?”

He saw that she had burn-sores all over her body.

He asked her –

“How did this happen?”

Taaraavalee told him that the moonlight coming through the window touched her body and she was burnt by the moon rays.

Seeing her moaning in pain and crying profusely, the king became apprehensive and called for the maids; arranged for a bed made of softest petals of lotus for her to lie down; got her sores treated with cooling ointments and sandal paste.

His third queen Mrgaankavati heard about the accidents that the other two queens met with. She decided to give company to the king and left her private apartment and started walking towards the palace where the king was staying.

The night was silent. Even birds made no noise. But from somewhere far the sound of pounding paddy grains reached the queen’s ears. The moment she heard it, she screamed in pain-“Ha! I am dead!”! She started wringing the hands and collapsed on the road itself. The maids helped the crying queen back to her apartment and made her comfortably lie on the bed. Anxious, they checked her hands and found that she had sores on her palms like bees resting on a lotus. They reported the matter to the king. The king rushed towards her apartment worried and anxious and asked her how she was wounded. She showed her sore-filled palms and said-

“Lord! When I heard the sound of the pestle, I got these sores.”

The king got her treated with cooling ointments and sore-healing medicines.

“One was wounded by the falling lotus; another was burnt by the moonlight; and the third got sores on her palms by hearing the sound of grains getting pounded with a pestle!”

Thus thinking, the King who had three queens to boast about, spent his night alone wandering from one harem to the other. For him the night divided into three ‘Yaamas’ (measure of time) was like hundred ‘Yaamas’. In the morning he arranged for expert doctors to attend to his queens’ ailments; got them cured; and spent his days happily with them.

END

After the story was finished, Vetaala asked the king-

“King! Who is the most delicate of these three queens?”

“The queen who got sores in her palms by the sound of the pounding without actually touching the pestle is the most delicate of all; the other two had wounds and boils by the contact of the flower and moon rays; and so are not equal to her.”

As the king broke the silence with these words, the Vetaala flew back to the Shimshapaa tree. The King with his determination unbroken walked towards the tree making quick steps.